When You Remember Me
by Broken Boys
Summary: Sam Winchester is in his 3rd year at Stanford when he receives his annual Christmas package from Dean. Unfortunately, what's inside causes his worst nightmare to become reality. Warning: character death


**Characters/Pairing**: Gen  
**Word Count**: 950  
**Warnings**: Character death  
**Summary**: This was written for a Winter/Holiday themed h/c comment-fic meme over at LJ based on the following prompt:

_It's December of Sam's third year at Stanford and he gets a package in the mail from Dean. He thinks it's a Christmas present, like Dean has sent him the past two years so he waits to open it on Christmas day. Turns out it's actually the box Dean arranged to have sent if he ever died hunting._

Sam sits on the couch in his quiet apartment staring at the open package that's sitting in his lap.

When he'd received it a few days ago, he'd assumed it was the present Dean sent him every year, and he'd placed it under his small tree knowing he would wait until Christmas day to open it.

Since Jessica's death a year ago, the support he'd received from his brother was the one thing helping him keep it all together. He'd wanted to leave school to find the thing that'd killed her and to help find their dad, but Dean had convinced him to stay. When he'd said that it wasn't right to stay, Dean had kicked his ass and told him it wouldn't make since to throw his future away, both of them knowing how hard he'd worked the last few years in school.

Sam had stumbled back into his apartment a little while ago with his brother on his mind. He'd come back to his quiet, one bedroom efficiency apartment a couple hours ago with alcohol making his head feel light but his heart heavy with his strong desire to either see or hear from his brother.

There were only a few students left on campus this time of year, but the ones that remained always threw one hell of a party. He'd recognized a few students from last year, and it gave the event a sense of familiarity that he longed for.

Sam received only a handful of gifts this year, but he'd looked forward to opening everyone of them. He'd moved his gifts from under the tree and placed them on the couch. He'd been thankful for each one and took his time opening each gift, careful not to tear the wrapping paper.

The first one was from his on-campus work-study supervisor, Mrs. McGregor. It was a $50 gift certificate to Wal-Mart. The generosity of it warmed his heart. The next two were from students he'd tutored during the year as a way to earn extra cash. He'd not been surprised that both of them had gotten him books. It's no secret that he loves to read.

The final box was from Dean. It was wrapped in plain, brown paper like always. Because it looked like it always does, it wasn't until he removed the paper from the first side revealing the dreadfully familiar box underneath that Sam felt his heart starting to slam painfully against his chest.

Sam sits on the couch in his quiet apartment staring at the package that's sitting in his lap.

It'd been sitting there for almost an hour before he felt like he could move again. He could barely grip the package his hands were shaking so hard. He realized that he was freezing cold even though the thermostat was set at 75 degrees and he still had his jacket on. His stomach churned and it was only belatedly that he realized he's already vomited once all down his legs and all over his shoes. His vision was all funny and his face felt hot, but he didn't know why.

Sam opened the box and removed each item individually. It felt as if he was watching someone else do it. He felt detached. He was floating above himself praying to God that he didn't crash back down into his newfound hell too soon.

There were many things inside. They were all just things though. Some of them were round. Some of them were long. Some of them were made of paper. He removed each item individually until the only thing that remained in the bottom of the box was a letter with his name written on it in Dean's barely legible scrawl.

Sam read the letter, but it wasn't real. It's not real. It can't be real. It's not real, so he keeps reading it over and over again.

_Dear Sam,_

Don't be sad, little brother. We both know that I probably died saving someone's life. I hate to ask this of you, but please find my body and make sure that it's put away proper if it hasn't already been. Find my baby and take care of her, too. If you need help, go to Bobby.

I only have one regret and that's not being able to be there for you as you walk across that stage when you earn your degree. Keep using that big brain of yours, little brother. I know you'll be the best lawyer ever. I'm happy for and proud of you. You never wanted to be a hunter and that's okay. In the end, you'll still be putting evil bastards away. That's what counts.

Remember the things I taught you. Remember the things dad taught you. And never forget, Sammy…you may have been taller, but I was always better looking.

Your big brother forever,

Dean

Sam shivers hard as the temperature of the room seems to drop even further. His teeth are chattering hard now. He can taste blood in his mouth from where he's bitten his lip. He feels sick, almost like he's going to black out, and he's covered in a cold sweat. His whole body is trembling so hard, he feels like he's coming apart. A part of him knows that he is. Someone's sobbing so loudly, so brokenly, that it's making his head feel like it's going to crack open.

It won't be for another hour yet that he'll realize the sound is coming from him.

Sam sits on the couch in his quiet apartment staring at the open package that's sitting in his lap.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

*end*


End file.
